


well it harms, it harms me, it harms, i'll let it in

by celaenos



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Holiday Fic Exchange, Misses Clause Challenge, One Shot, Post-Season/Series 01, Yuletide 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 13:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16975104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/pseuds/celaenos
Summary: Eve kisses her. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She might be about to get stabbed at any moment. This woman has murdered countless people, one of whom Eve loved.And yet—





	well it harms, it harms me, it harms, i'll let it in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reciprocity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reciprocity/gifts).



> happy yuletide!

Her hand doesn’t shake.

Honestly, she’s impressed with herself for that.

All that goes out the window when she looks down at the panicked, surprised, hurt look slipping onto Villanelle’s face. “I really liked you,” she says, and it sounds sincere. Eve can feel Villanelle bucking underneath her. “It hurts!” she groans. “Don’t pull it—”

Eve pulls the knife out.

“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!” Villanelle hollers.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Blood pools faster than Eve could have thought and she presses her palms against Villanelle’s stomach. “OKAY, HOLD ON,” Eve yells. “HOLD ON, IT’S OKAY.” She gets hold of Villanelle’s hands and replaces them with her own, leaping off her waist and the bed in one very ungraceful swoop. She hits her knee on the way down, pain ricocheting up her leg. She swallows it down and scrambles towards the kitchen in search of a towel. When she turns around to help—Villanelle shoots at her.

Seems fair.

Eve screams at her anyway. There are gunshots and screaming and then it all just… stops. Eve peaks her head around the corner and Villanelle isn’t there. There’s a trail of blood, though.

Eve hesitates, and then, she runs after.

Waited too long, then. There’s no sign of her. Eve turns around and walks back upstairs, chugs some more of Villanelle’s champagne and flops back down onto the bed. There are some bloodstains. She lying on them.

It’s still wet.

Eve starts to laugh. It’s pitched too high, a crack to it. The noise rips its way out of her throat and echoes in the empty apartment until it shifts into a mixture of laughter and tears. She doesn’t know when, but at some point, the exhaustion takes over and she finally falls asleep.

…

…

She wakes up with some congealed blood sticking to the back of her shirt, sometime after five a.m. She peels her way out of the shirt rather than deal with it any other way. Her head is pounding. She peels out of her pants too—there’s a bruise on her knee.

Eve swigs the rest of the dregs from the bottle of champagne and pulls on a sweater and pair of pants from Villanelle’s closet. The pants are too tall, she has to roll them up at the bottoms.

The door has been open the whole night, a trail of blood down the stairs and Eve just… slept there.

What the fuck is she doing?

She hadn’t known, yesterday, if she was going to kiss Villanelle or stab her.

That’s not true. She was always going to stab her, she just didn’t know if she was going to kiss her first. Part of her wishes that she had, but it was satisfying as it played out anyway. Sort of.

Eve walks out of the apartment, ignoring the drops of blood that scatter the Paris streets.

…

…

She gets a hotel room.

It feels right; she’s gone rogue, she’s got no job to go back to, doesn’t trust the people there anyway, except maybe Elena. She likes Kenny a lot, but it’s his mom, she can’t trust him all the way.

She takes a shower, runs all the hot water out and then lies down naked on top of the bed. Falls asleep laughing.

Again.

And again. And again.

Probably, she’s going insane.

…

…

It takes a week.

There’s a note left on her fridge that just says: _Sorry baby_. Bit of blood in the shape of a kiss pressed to it.

Eve leaves it where it is.

…

…

On Friday, she goes to the grocery store. The man behind the counter gives her an odd glare, she spits out choppy French and grabs her bananas, some bread, and gives him a handful of euros and then books it. A lady with a dog hollers at her. Eve gives her a wave and she yells louder, so she gives her the finger.

Behind her, Villanelle chuckles.

“Fuck,” Eve hisses, jumping. Villanelle smirks at her. Eve gives her a once over. Skin is a little pale, sallow, hints of blood loss but she still looks fabulous. She’s wearing some pink monstrosity that Eve has never seen before, poofy and causing people to give her double takes. “Nice dress,” she says, sarcastic.

Villanelle preens. She spins, giving Eve the full effect. “Thank you.”

“How’s your gut?”

“Hurts,” she says simply. “How yours?”

“Um,” Eve looks down. “Fine?”

Villanelle makes a sudden move and Eve reacts by jumping eight feet away and nearly falling on her ass. Only Villanelle’s arm reaching out to grab her stops her from hitting the concrete. “Don’t do that Eve,” she says, smirking. “I’m not going to stab you.”

Eve laughs, hint of insanity to it, and Villanelle beams.

“Let’s go,” she says, looping their arms and skipping down the sidewalk. “I know a wonderful crepe stand down this way.”

Eve doesn’t really have much choice.

…

…

The man at the crepe stand smiles at them, unsuspecting that Villanelle could murder him with any of the things in front of her. Eve just stands there, holding her bananas and bread awkwardly in her arms. The man gives her the classic butter and sugar crepe that Villanelle swears is the best and then she grabs Eve’s bread so she has a hand free to eat with.

They go at sit down by the river.

“This is really good,” Eve says after a bit, because it is.

“I know,” Villanelle has already scarfed hers down. The girl can eat anything. Eve holds out a banana to her. “Thank you,” she says and scarfs that too.

Their quiet for a few minutes. Eve eating her crepe, Villanelle eating two of her bananas and a piece of the bread, swinging her legs back and forth and watching the small waves from the boats.

“Sorry for stabbing you,” Eve says, finally.

Villanelle cocks her head. “Are you?”

“A little.”

“Not all the way?”

“No.” Eve holds her gaze. “You killed my friend.”

Villanelle shrugs, eating another piece of bread. “Do you want me to apologize for that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“I want you to mean it.”

Villanelle stops swinging her legs. “Why?”

“Because if you don’t mean it then there’s no point in saying it.”

Villanelle considers this for an increasing length of time. Eve is almost about to get up and just walk away when she says, low. “I am sorry that I took him away from you. I can’t give you anything else but that.”

She seems sincere. “Why?” Eve asks.

“Because I’m not like you—”

“No,” Eve cuts her off. “I know that. That’s not what I meant — I meant, why, do you care about me?”

“Did I say that I did?” Villanelle laughs.

“No,” Eve says easily. “But you’ve basically implied it in every other way.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Villanelle shrugs. Then, she jumps up suddenly. With agility that someone stabbed only a week and a half ago should not be able to possess. She gives Eve a brilliant grin, spins, and steals the rest of her bread. “See you later.”

And then she’s off.

“Fuck,” Eve mutters.

…

…

She checks out of her hotel. At the airport, she picks a destination at random, doesn’t even ask where she’s going until right up to the last moment.

Prague.

Well, she’s never been there before. Maybe a vacation will be nice.

Is this a vacation? Or is she just running blind?

…

…

Eve gets a hotel near the Old Town Square. Full of tourists just like her. She buys a pastry with ice cream and realizes ten minutes later that it’s not Czech at all, it’s Hungarian. A tourist trap.

A delicious one, though.

Crossing the Charles bridge takes ages. Eve looks up and swears she sees Villanelle. She has no way of knowing if she’s hallucinating or if she’s really there. At this point, neither thing would surprise Eve much at all.

…

…

Maybe she was hallucinating on the bridge, but Villanelle shows up again either way.

Eve’s been in Prague for two weeks, she just continuously keeps extending her room. Last night she had to switch into another for an existing reservation.

Villanelle climbs through her window.

“Nice balcony,” she says, in lieu of a greeting.

“Thanks,” Eve says, not even surprised to see her at all. “Built it myself.”

Villanelle laughs, boisterous, full-bellied, absolutely joyful. It’s quite a thing, to make her laugh. Eve feels proud despite herself.

“Ah!” Villanelle says excitedly, “coffee!” She walks over and steals one of the mugs from Eve, and sits cross-legged on the balcony, smacking the spot beside her for Eve. The balcony is tiny. When Eve lowers herself down, their legs are touching. The sun is beginning to set over the horizon, a bright orange color so hard you could bash your knuckles on it. Eve has only seen such a sunset maybe a handful of times in her life. It feels strange, to be sharing this one with Villanelle.

They watch in silence and then Even blinks and Villanelle has a knife pressed against her gut.

“Fuck,” Eve hisses, glancing down.

“Indeed,” Villanelle smiles. “It would make us even,” she says.

“Would it?” Eve asks.

“It would make me feel better,” Villanelle amends.

Eve doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.

Villanelle presses her face close, lips not even an inch from Eve’s, she’s breathing directly into Eve’s mouth. “Why did you do it?”

“Because you killed my friend.”

“No,” Villanelle hisses, “not that. I told you not to break my heart.”

Eve kisses her. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She might be about to get stabbed at any moment. This woman has murdered countless people, one of whom Eve loved.

And yet—

Villanelle snakes her hand around the back of Eve’s neck and grips tightly. Her tongue runs along Eve’s bottom lip and the knife presses itself closer, the tip grazing against Eve’s stomach a little. Instinctually, she knows that she should flinch at the sensation, but she only bites down on Villanelle’s lip and groans into her mouth. The sun sets and Eve tastes Villanelle.

The knife slides into her stomach, just a bit. Eve hisses and pulls back but Villanelle holds her grip on Eve’s neck tightly. Their mouths are still only a few inches away.

“Fair is fair,” she says, almost fondly.

Eve looks down at her side, and the knife, and the bit of blood that is seeping out of Villanelle’s stomach too, her wound reopening with their movements. Maybe?

“We match,” Eve says, surprised.

Villanelle kisses her again and slides the knife out. Eve groans for both reasons.

“See you later,” Villanelle says, and leaps over the balcony.

Eve presses her palm against her side and watches the sun set until it’s black. “Until next time,” she whispers and goes to find a bandage.


End file.
